


Serendipity

by CatSnidget



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aristocracy, F/F, F/M, Minister for Magic elections, Scheming, angry fleurmione children, fleurmione - Freeform, trifling hoe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatSnidget/pseuds/CatSnidget
Summary: What should have been a simple school reunion turns into the discovery of a potential illegitimate child. With a looming election, a conniving ex-girlfriend and the ever rabid tabloids . Can Fleur and Hermione find a solution to this unexpected happenstance and keep their marriage in tact?Written as part of a fluff v Angst challenge with Wisp on the Fleurmione Discord.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written a while ago as part of an Angst v Fluff challenge with Wisp on the Fleurmione Discord.  
> Was initially intended to be a one-shot but its now going to be a multi-chapter fic as its much much too long. I have the other parts already written so this is the first 1-16 pages of the monster doc that this has turned into.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this as much as I had writing it ;)

Should you have suggested you stay home with the kids?

Probably.

Did you think it’d be this bad?

Not at all.

Overconfidence was never your strong suit.

Hard-headedness yes.

Most definitely.

It was that strong will that landed you in this situation.

Several months ago when Fleur had received an owl about a reunion at her old Alma Mater, you’d been too wrapped up in your own preparation for Minister of Magic to really pay much attention.

She’d chastised you with a “You are not listening to a word zat I am saying,”

And in your effort to prove her wrong you’d replied “When do we leave?” 

You really should have thought that through.

This was the first year all of the kids were at Hogwarts. 

You’d just kissed your youngest goodbye as they boarded the train and left to start their first year.

Making sure to remind your older three to look out for them, as they’d mumbled a “Yes mum” in turn.

Your political career had been on an upward trajectory since you’d first stepped foot into the Ministry fifteen years prior. 

Working your way up the ladder and enacting change for the betterment of all living creatures.

Yes.

You’d had much success in bringing about fair legislation while working under Kingsly the last few years before he’d retired.

This being the year he’d decided not to run for re-election.

The year you would finally put your foot forward.

And run for Minister of Magic.

Your wife and children had been very supportive all summer.

They’d sat through countless rehearsals as you went over your talking points and rehashed your ideas for future pieces of legislation.

You were positive you’d bored the hell out of the lot of them, save your youngest daughter.

You were determined to have it all.

Yes.

You’d fought in a war.

Had helped your best friend defeat Voldemort.

Had married the woman of your dreams.

Had five wonderful children.

Enacted change within the Ministry.

Successfully helped pass legislation for the rights of those with creature blood.

And this was your moment.

So wrapped up in your upcoming campaign were you that you’d only caught the words “Beuxbaton,” “Reunion,” and “Invitation” 

You were sure that was all you’d needed to hear as you had more pressing concerns.

You really should have known what that would entail. 

You think to yourself now as you stand beside your wife.

The picture of sophistication.

In an elegant gown.

The pride and joy of the once Pureblooded Delacour family of France.

And the once most sought after bachelorette.

She’d succeed her father one day as the head of the Most Noble and once Royal blood of House Delacour of France.

The former rulers of the Wizarding Country of France.

That's not to say you weren’t proud to call yourself the spouse of Fleur Isabelle Delacour.

After all you had opted on taking her name when you’d married.

And hopefully would one day in the near future be able to call yourself Minister Delacour.

No you weren’t bothered by that.

It was the ever hungry stares and over the top vying of attention.

The false modesties.

An annoying fervor you’d only ever seen in Voldemort’s followers.

Of the Aristocracy of France.

As Fleur had been in the same year as quite a few of the children of the Aristocracy.

Two of which you knew fondly, her two best friends Claude Dampierres and Suzette Evreux.

Neither of which was currently present to witness the display before you.

They had seemed to materialize out of nowhere when they’d first made their entrance into the grand ballroom of Beauxbatons.

“Modeled after ze grand ballroom in Versailles,’ Fleur had whispered to you as you’d been in awe at the structure.

You no sooner got to marvel at the beauty of the paintings on the ceiling.

When you’d both been accosted by an over jubilant man who looked of an age with Fleur. 

He’d greeted you both, eyes never leaving your wife.

To which you had decided not to take to heart, you knew your wife was a beauty. 

Her veela blood was an ever present factor.

And that didn’t bother you in the slightest.

As you’d had your own turn at the over the top attention by the people of Britain after Voldemort’s fall.

You were a politician.

You knew how to conduct yourself. 

What you hadn’t taken into consideration however.

Was the sheer amount of people Fleur seemed to draw.

She’d gone to school with the numerous witches and wizards before them.

You’d think they’d gotten used to her thrall by now.

A thrall that had tempered with age.

That was not even overly present at the moment.

That wasn’t the case.

As you watched countless witch and wizard, figuratively speaking of course, fall over themselves at your wife.

No.

This didn’t bother you.

A little grating on the nerves.

But this didn’t bother you.

You don’t even remember when they stopped acknowledging you all together.

Was it after the 7th or was it the 9th person.

That they’d decided you weren’t even worth their time.

At least not enough to warrant a simple introduction.

So much for courtesy.

Fleur didn’t even seem to be fazed by it as she effortlessly laughed at a wizard’s attempt at a joke.

A joke that wasn’t even funny.

Could only watch on as another person completely ignored you and kissed Fleur’s hand in greeting.

Not bothered.

Feeling a need for some fresh air you decide to excuse yourself.

Fleur doesn't even bother to try to look your way to acknowledge you.

To wrapped up in a discussion with another wizard.

No.

You’re not bothered by this.

You walk to a nearby set of doors leading to a balcony overlooking the Beauxbaton grounds. 

Only then when you’re holding onto the railing of the balcony do you breathe a sigh.

Ok you lied.

You’re mildly frustrated.

You don’t get much time to dwell on that frustration rather.

When you hear a set of footsteps behind you and you whirl around to see who’s come outside.

For a split second you think it's Fleur. 

It’s not.

One of Fleur’s erstwhile best friends stands before you.

You’d seen her briefly two summers prior when you and Fleur had decided to take the kids to vacation in Romania.

The girl who’d opted to throw caution to the wind and not go along with the aristocratic expectations of her house.

Who’d always been a bit of a “wildcard’ as Fleur had mentioned.

Who’d decided to travel the world and learn about all species of Dragon after graduation.

“Fitting as she always seemed to set one of our professor’s on fire each term,” Fleur had mentioned with a chuckle.

Suzette Evreux.

“I was starting to wonder when one of you would break free of zat mob,” the brunette haired girl says with a rueful smile. 

“Has it always been like that?” you ask, it was worse than when Fleur had been at Hogwarts your fourth year.

And you had thought that was bad.

“Oh worse, but at least you don’t have to deal wiz zat trallop Katherina Brassard,” 

The name rings a bell.

But you can’t quite put your mind on where you’ve heard it before.

Suzette notices your contemplative face and decides to save you the trouble.

“Fleur and she dated off and on ze majority of our time in school,” she clarifies.

And ding ding ding.

That’s where you’ve heard that name before.

Fleur had mentioned the girl when you’d been dating.

You knew the story of how that relationship had ended.

The girl had been besotted with Fleur.

And Fleur in her naive youth had thought herself besotted with the girl in turn.

Much to the displeasure of her two constant friends as they’d both never gotten round to accepting her presence amongst their little trio of sorts.

“She was very controlling,” Fleur had mentioned in passing when you’d asked why it hadn’t worked out between the two.

“And she wasn’t you,” she’d finished, and had promptly kissed you to assure you of her love for you.

You try to be nice and reply in turn “She can’t have been that bad,”

To which the french witch gives you an undignified snort.

“She was overly ambitious and thought ‘erself ze future lady of House Delacour, would openly boast about ze grand celebracion zeir wedding would be and would tell all ‘ou would listen about ‘ow she ‘ad been chozen above everyone else in ze palace to be ze mate of Fleur,” 

Ok so Fleur might have downplayed her relationship with Katherina Brassard.

“She was beyond controlling, attempted to ostracize Fleur from ‘er friends, but ze last straw was when she tried to trick Fleur into a betrozal arrangement ze year before ze TriWizard Tournament,”

You were aware of the last part.

However you hadn’t known the full extent of this girl’s actions.

“I wish I ‘ad been zere when Fleur told zat trallop zat she was not ‘er mate,” Suzette comments.

You nod in turn and you both just stand there in silence taking in the nice breeze.

“I should get ba-” you had started to say before the older witch interrupts you with a “Merde,”

You follow her line of sight before you see a woman of great beauty.

Beautiful brown hair tied up in an intricate updo, and a gown of an expensive fabric accentuating her figure.

You barely have time to register the moment that has just passed before the older witch takes your elbow and drags you with her back into the ballroom.

You can’t stop the uneasy feeling you get as you both make your way through the throngs of people.

Had the mob grown since you’d last left your spouse?

No matter.

As they part in haste as Suzette leads you through them with ease.

Guess those are the perks of coming from the second most powerful family in france.

You finally make it through the throngs of people surrounding your wife when you see Katherina Brassard hanging onto Fleur’s arm.

Can see the tight smile on Fleur’s face.

But she makes no further movement to remove the over attentive witch from her person.

You start to move forward to remove Fleur from this interloper when the strong baritone voice of Claude Dampierres saves you the trouble.

“Fleur! Madam Maxime ‘as been looking for ‘ou!” 

Fleur wastes no moment and excuses herself from those around her, sends you a small smile and follows her other friend away from the madness.

You make to follow the retreating form of your wife before you're stopped by the saccharine sweet voice of the Lady standing a few steps away from you.

“Fleur will be back momentarily,” she proclaims with an air of confidence.

The air of a wife.

You can feel a small feeling of anger start to form at the pit of your stomach.

But you push it away.

Suzette beside you rolls her eyes.

“For a dance wiz ‘er Lady wife of course,” she says making a show of motioning at your person.

The gathered crowd breaks from their stupor and immediately nods and a multitude of “of course,” and “naturally’s” are uttered. 

Their attention is on you now.

You can feel them sizing you up.

But you do not balk under the intensity of their gaze.

You’re Hermione Jane Delacour nee Granger.

The Golden Girl of the Wizarding War.

You didn’t balk in the face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

And you will not falter now.

Not to the uppity aristocracy of France.

And least of all to this woman.

“Ah yes ze muggleborn,” the audacity of the witch.

“Ze wife and mate of ze Heir to House Delacour,” Suzette counters.

This seems to do the trick as the woman reddens for a moment before quickly recovering her composure.

“Of course, ‘ou ar well known amongst our circles,” she bites back.

You can feel the uncomfortable air amongst the witches in wizards.

Can feel the contempt of the offending witch. 

You will not allow yourself to be cowed.

“I do apologize that we haven’t been introduced,” you say, with an outstretched hand.

Katherina looks at your outstretched hand.

And for a brief second you’re not sure she’ll take it.

But she does.

She presents her hand to be kissed as is the French custom.

And you in turn shake it instead.

This earns you a grin from the woman beside you.

As you hear the faint sound a small snigger.

“You are English non?” she witch states as she pulls her hand back.

“Yes, I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic of Britain, Hermione Delacour,” you state proudly.

The people around you latch onto your every word.

Had it just dawned on them that you were married to Fleur?

It must have.

No sooner have you uttered the words.

Then does the crowd start engaging with you in turn as they had done so with Fleur previously.

It’s all false modesty.

You know that all too well.

But you play the part.

And can’t help the smile that forms on your lips as you notice Katherina huff in annoyance.

Guess she doesn’t like it when she doesn’t command the attention of the crowd.

On that you’re oppositely matched.

You can’t stand the crowd's attention.

But it's a necessary must in order to enact change in the world.

So you put your best foot forward and brave it.

It’ll be good practice for when you’re Minister.

And excellent practice for when you eventually retire and move to France.

A compromise you and Fleur decided on when you first married.

You understand the importance of your spouse's position in this country.

The scion of the once royal family of Wizarding France.

Her ancestor helped found the country back in archaic times.

You were hesitant at first.

It’s one thing to find out as an eleven year old that you’re a witch.

That you’ve been accepted to a supposed magical school.

And that magic exists to begin with.

It's a whole other world to wrap your head around.

That your spouse belongs to a former ruling family.

You didn’t ever think you’d find yourself in such a world.

But as time went on you grew to understand its importance.

Fleur would one day succeed her father.

And your eldest Victoire would follow after.

You muse upon this as wizard and witch alike enthusiastically engage with you.

You’re not Fleur.

But you’re the next best thing to these people you suppose.

The concern that is Katherina Brussard pushes to the back of your mind for the moment.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the clinking of silverware on glass is heard throughout the ballroom.

The conversation around you stops. 

You in turn.

Turn your head in the direction of the noise.

At the forefront of the ballroom a stage of sorts has been erected.

And standing atop it is the Headmistress of Beauxbaton.

Olympe Maxime.

She gives a lovely speech, welcoming all in attendance to the 15 year reunion of Fleur’s graduating class.

All clap.

She briefly speaks on the pride she feels at seeing how her former pupils have grown.

You spot a few misty eyes.

She ends her speech by wishing everyone a lovely evening.

All clap in jubilation.

The headmistress in France is much beloved as you can plainly see.

A welcome sight.

You don’t muse on this for long as you feel a hand on your back.

Suzette excuses the both of you and leads you in the direction of the stage.

It doesn’t take long for you to bridge the distance.

You see Fleur engaging in an animated discussion with the Headmistress.

Her other friend Claude standing not too far behind hands clasped behind his back.

He notices the both of you approach and gives a small bow to excuse himself and walks forward.

“Lively evening ladies,” he greets with a smile as he and Suzette exchange kisses on each cheek in greeting.

And he leans in to do the same with you.

Of Fleur’s two friends he followed a career in the Ministry.

Much as you did.

He always has delightful insight on legislation and reform that piqued your interest as a teenager.

And continues to do so to this day.

“Did you see what zat tart wore zis evening?” The snide comment from Suzette startles you from your thoughts. 

She’d never been one to judge people for what they were wearing.

At least not since you’ve known her.

A look of mild irritation passes over Claude’s features in turn.

This surprises you.

This felt out of character for the two.

And you can feel a tenseness.

“Ou would zink zat she would ‘ave better decorum,” the dark brown haired man comments in agreement.

They must have noticed the quizzical look on your face.

As you notice a look briefly pass between the two before Claude explains.

“She iz wearing a necklace zat Fleur gifted to her in our school days,”

Ah.

Well then.

This doesn’t bug you much.

It's just a simple necklace.

But you can’t help the growing sense of worry starting to grow in the back of your mind.

“She iz a married woman so ' ‘ou would not zink zat she would stoop to such impropriety,” Claude offhandedly comments. 

No sooner have the words left his lips then does the woman seemingly materialize out of nowhere.

The three of you turn as you hear her voice greet Fleur.

It would seem in your conversation you missed Madam Maxime excusing herself.

And now the woman of the hour has struck up a conversation once more with your spouse.

You can feel the annoyance seep into you.

The forwardness of this woman has gotten under your skin.

You can’t lie to yourself.

As if sensing this Claude asks you for a dance.

An attempt to help cool your mind.

He exchanges a look with Suzette and she shoots you both a smile before walking up to Fleur and Katherina.

You want to object.

You want to put that woman in her place.

But you’re a politician.

More importantly.

One running for the highest office in your own country.

And it would not be seen well if you are found acting rash overseas.

And the hierarchy in France is a much different algorithm all together.

So you allow Claude to lead you to the dance floor and allow him to lead you in a dance.

A simple waltz.

“Do not let Katherina get ze better of ‘ou,” Claude’s words break you from your contemplative thoughts.

“Has she always been so,” you respond in turn, trying to find the right word to describe the audacity of the woman currently speaking to your wife.

“Overreaching? Oui,” Claude responds as he leads you.

You take this in.

So this is not new.

“But you ‘ave nozing to worry about, Suzette will make sure Katherina knows ‘er place,” he assures you as the song comes to a stop and he takes a step back and gives you a slight bow.

Signalling the end of your brief dance.

You curtsey back in turn and you both make your way back to Fleur.

“Oh you must simply come! It iz lovely zis time of ze year!” you hear the saccharine sweet voice of Katherina exclaim as you and Claude approach.

You can see the tight smile back on Fleur’s face and the annoyed look on Suzette’s features.

Not sensing the reluctance of your spouse or choosing to ignore it all together.

The woman goes on.

“Once our children are wed we can finally join our lines as it was meant to,”

This immediately doesn’t sit right with you.

And Claude is not able to hold you back from this one.

You walk with purpose and move to stand on the other side of your wife.

Suzette flanking the other.

And Claude coming up behind.

“I do apologize for the interruption,” you begin.

You’re not sorry.

Offence meant.

The woman turns her attention on you as you loop your arm around Fleur’s waist.

“I did not know that you had children attending Hogwarts, what year are they in?” you ask.

You’re not sure what this woman is getting at.

But when it comes to your children you are fiercely protective.

The question catches her off guard.

But she quickly recovers.

“Ah non, zey attend Beauxbaton as all proper children of ze nobility,” she says matter of factly.

“I was proposing a betrozal,” she clarifies.

This really doesn’t sit right with you.

“A betrothal?” you question back.

What an archaic proposition.

You would never force your children into a marriage.

They would be free to choose who they loved.

No one would dictate that.

Least of all this woman.

“Oui, zat or I was going to request Fleur assist me wiz arranging the betrozal of our child,” 

The what.


	2. She did what now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter of the Angst v Fluff challenge I have going with Wisp on the Fleurmione Discord

You must’ve heard wrong.

“I’m sorry I don’t believe I heard you right,” you hear yourself say.

You start feeling a feeling of dread rise to the surface.

Can feel your pulse quicken.

You can feel Fleur tense up beside you.

“Non you ‘eard me right, I ‘ave a child by Fleur, ze one I am hoping Fleur will acknowledge and legitimize as a true heir in line of succession,” Katherina boldly proclaims.

You’re sure the people mingling about heard that.

As the chatter about seems to come to a halt.

“What pathetic grasp is zis Katherina,” Claude accuses, stepping toward the smirking witch.

“I am offended zat ‘ou would zink zat I would need to grasp, it iz true of course, my last joining wiz Fleur in our sixth year resulted in a child,” 

You can feel all eyes on your little group.

Whatever chatter has completely stopped.

“My Andre is ze true heir to ze Delacour name,” Katherina boldly proclaims.

You can’t stop the anger and anxiety that has seeped into the forefront.

Who does this woman think she is?

Secret child or no.

“I ‘ave seen your child, zey do not look at all like Fleur,” you hear Suzette say.

You need to say something.

But you feel out of your depth here.

And judging by Fleur’s own inability to say anything on the matter.

You’re sure she is too.

This is a shock for the both of you.

“Nizzer do Fleur’s two youngest yet no one questions zeir legitimacy,” 

It’s at this that you finally speak up.

“You dare accuse my Loras and Margaery,” 

You’re stopped from saying anything further, when you feel Fleur’s hand come around your waist.

“Zis is a matter to be discussed in private, not ‘ere where you can make a fool of yourself amongst ‘old schoolmates” 

You can see the ferocity in her eyes.

You know it affects Fleur as much as it does you.

Whenever anyone attempts to speak ill of any of your offspring.

This seems to do the trick, as Katherina takes a set back.

However you can see a reddish tint has taken display on her features.

“As you wish, meet me in an hour by ze entrance to ze restaurant you last took me too before you left me wiz a bebe in mai belly,” she says in a huff and sharply turns and walks away.

The rest of the hour goes by in a blur.

Fleur has not let you go as you mingle with a few more former schoolmates of hers before you excuse yourselves and make your way out of the ballroom.

Fleur’s two friends follow after you as you make your way outside.

“Katherina is a real piece of work,” Suzette off handedly comments.

You can feel the tenseness between the three french nationals.

You’re own is very present.

Nodding beside the fuming witch, Claude comments in turn.

“I will go into ze ministry after zis and see what I can find,”

Ah, you had forgotten about that, he does hold a high enough position within the ministry to look into personal files.

This does little to calm your nerves however.

If Fleur does have a child she did not know about.

She must do right by it.

You would never deny a child innocent of their parents actions the right to have a bond with their unknowing parent. 

You’re not a cruel person by any means.

However you can’t stop the feeling that unsettles you.

Of Fleur being anywhere near this woman.

Who acted like she had a rightful claim over your spouse.

“I appreciate it,” you hear Fleur’s words in thanks, this brings you out of your musings.

Claude nods in turn before bidding you all a good evening and apparating away.

Suzette likewise gives you both a comforting smile and says “I’ve got to take care of a few zings while I am in ze city but I will be nearby if you need anyzing of me,” 

She apparates a moment later.

Fleur grips you closer and with a pop apparates the both of you.

The pulling sensation is briefly felt as you stand in Fleur’s bedroom within the Delacour Estate.

You look at your spouse quizzically as she takes a step back from you.

Untangling her arm from around your waist.

“I will be back soon,” she says with an air of finality.

This puzzles you.

“No we will go together,” you firmly state.

You do not like the thought of Fleur and this woman alone in the same room.

Fleur shakes her head at that.

“Non zis is a matter that I must deal wiz,” 

Deal with?

No. You’re married, you’ve been married for close to 14 years or is that not enough to warrant you a place at her side during this trying time.

“You don’t have to deal with this alone, I am well aware of the custody laws, I can help,” you try to reason.

This does little to sway Fleur, and she simply shakes her head once more.

“In Britain, not ‘ere, France is different,” 

“How different can it be?” you ask, if it is you’d like to know.

“I do not ‘ave time to explain, I ‘ave to meet Katherina in less zan a minute,” Fleur tries to reason.

But really what is there to reason.

You’re her spouse.

Surely that should be enough to warrant you a seat at the table during this discussion.

“I can help,” you try to reason once more.

You don’t know if its the time constraint or your insistence that annoys Fleur as she huffs and retorts.

“Zis matter does not concern you, now please I am going to be late,” 

A moment later she’s gone.

Fantastic.

Now what are you going to do?

You’re not sure.

But what you are sure of.

Is that you’re a bit hurt.

And a bit mad.

Fleur just disregarded you.

“Zis matter does not concern you,” had she really said that?

Of course it concerned you.

If this child was coming into your lives.

Into your children’s lives.

This concerned you.

How dare she say that it did not.

You had every right to be at this meeting.

When Fleur comes back from her meeting you will make sure to let her know how her words have hurt you.

For now you will settle in for the night.

Your hurt has not abated.

But it is rather late and you need to get ready for bed.

You’ll read a book to help temper your flaring anger.

Best to have a level head rather than acting on raging emotions.

So you change out of your clothes and into a pair of pajamas.

Remove the light makeup you’ve put on for the evening and brush your teeth.

You’ll deal with this when Fleur gets back and you’ve calmed down.

You settle into bed with a piece of legislation.

One of pillars for your campaign.

This should keep you occupied until Fleur comes back.

Which shouldn’t take too long as you both have to leave for England come first thing in the morning.

You have your first press conference tomorrow.

To kick off your campaign.

You don’t know how.

Or rather when it happened.

But you suddenly find yourself jolting awake.

You take a moment to adjust to your surroundings.

It appears to be morning?

You sit up.

You must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for Fleur.

Only.

She doesn’t seem to have come back?

Her side of the bed does not look like it was slept in?

Could she have gotten up earlier?

Questions swirl about you.

But you decided to try to ease the looming dread you can’t help but feel.

You figure she’s probably gone downstairs to break her fast with her mum and dad.

‘Clement and Apolline are early risers’ you muse to yourself as you walk into the bathroom, remove your clothes and turn on the shower.

Making sure to take a quick shower, you quickly wash away the grime from the previous day and get ready.

Only once you’ve put your wristwatch on do you realize you’re running a tad late.

And with haste do you gather your things and make your way out of the room down the stairs to the first floor, and into the dinning room.

Your mother and father in law greet you.

“Bonjour ‘Ermione,” they both acknowledge you with a smile.

“Bonjour,’ you greet back in turn.

Taking in your appearance Fleur’s father asks “Press Conference iz today non?” 

You nod in turn, you got on exceedingly well with Fleur’s family.

Especially her father.

Had run many a legislation by him in the early years of your career as a politician.

“You haven’t seen Fleur have you?” you ask, not wanting to waste time. You’re running a bit behind schedule as it is.

The looks of slight surprise on them churns that feeling of dread within you deeper.

“Did she not come back home wiz you?” Fleur’s mum inquires.

“She did, but she had a matter to take care off not long after we got back, I’m actually running a tad behind schedule so if you see her could you please let her know that I’ll see her at home tonight” 

You’ve unloaded a bit on them.

But if they have any questions they won’t ask them.

At least not now.

For they know just how important this is to you.

And they’re very proud of you for taking this next step in your career.

They both nod in turn and wish you a good speech.

‘Good speech’ right.

That.

As if you didn’t have enough to worry about today.

The dread increases.

You push this back again and kiss them both on each cheek to say your goodbyes.

Taking a few steps back you apparate.

Straight into your home.

Your empty home.

You’d forgotten how quiet it could get without your youngest two.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss them.

Loras with his obsession for flying and Margaery with her thirst for knowledge and many questions about the legislation you’ve worked on in the past.

It brings a smile to your face.

And helps ease your nerves a tad.

Thoughts of your children always do.

Victoire with her ferocity for dueling, Dominique with her knack for charms and Louis with his natural flying ability.

Your little brood always helped ease your nerves before any meeting. 

They helped you collect yourself.

And bring it all back to the root of why you were a politician.

To maintain peace.

To build a better world for them.

And for all the future generations to come.

With this in mind you check your watch once more.

Quarter to noon.

Right on time.

You walk over to your fireplace, take some floo powder and floo to your office at the Ministry.

You’re immediately greeted by your secretary and campaign manager as they filter about you making sure not a hair is out of place and going through your talking points with you as you look ahead.

Where out your doors a multitude of reporters await.

\----------- x -----------

This has gone much better than you expected it too.

You’ve been able to expertly answer all of the questions the reporters have thrown your way.

If the smiles on your team is anything to go by.

You’ve knocked this one out of the park.

And it looks like there’s just enough time for one last question.

So you motion for a reporter that hasn’t gotten a chance to ask.

“Mrs Delacour, what do you have to say to the reports that your wife was seen in the arms of another woman the other night?”

This catches you off guard

You’d expected anything else but this.

Is that why Fleur hadn’t come back the previous evening?

They must have sensed your falter as you can hear the reporters murmur between themselves.

You try to recover and meet the reporter head on.

“I say that I hold no stock in bold accusations that have no value to them, in my youth I was the target of slander, slander that proved to be false once the novelty of the ‘scandal’ wore off. So I will not acknowledge false rumors,” 

You can feel your quickening heartbeat.

The dread seeps back in.

This does not deter the reporter however.

“My source comes from the front page article from Le Pain Quotidien from France,” 

This stills your blood.

But you do not have another moment to register this when you’re saved by the interruption of your campaign manager.

“We have gone over the time allotted, if you wish to ask more questions please feel free to join us for the next press briefing,” he ushers you away. Your secretary and team behind you two.

You can hear the multitude of questions from the reporters.

The complaints.

The accusations.

\--------------- x -------------

“Victoire! Victoire! Stop!” 

The shouts from Louis Delacour can be heard as he struggles to wrap his arms around his older sister.

It'd been a typical day about the castle.

Louis Delacour, the eldest son and third born to Fleur and Hermione Delacour had been having a good day. 

He’d just made his way out onto the grounds, broom in hand.

When he’d seen his eldest sister launch herself at one of her housemates.

He’d been taken aback at the sudden action of his older sister.

But had sprung into action a moment later. 

Running over to his sister as she swung at Desmera Boote.

He’d struggled to get a handle on how to pull Victoire off of her housemate, before getting his arms around her waist.

“You’re insane!” the Boote girl exclaimed as she struggled to staunch the bloody nose she now sported.

Victoire struggles against you as she tries to free herself from your hold, but you hold on tight.

“Insult my mum’s again and I’ll show you insane!” 

This takes you back a bit.

Just enough for Victoire to break free of your hold and launch herself at Desmera once more.

You’re saved from the trouble of trying to pry them apart this time by the presence of Professor Longbottom and Headmistress McGonagall. 

“What is the meaning of this!” The shout startles Victoire enough for her to disentangle herself from Desmera.

“She just started attacking me Head Mistress,” Desmera excuses as Professor Longbottom spells an “Episkey” to stop the girl’s bleeding nose.

“She called my maman a Harlot!” Victoire defended.

Louis looked on and could not stop the anger he felt at those words.

So that’s why Victoire had launched herself at Desmera.

He had half a mind to do the same.

“Explain yourself Miss Boote,”

“She is Headmistress! She married into one of our most heroic families for the prestige!” Desmera tries to excuse as she presents a crumpled newspaper article towards the Headmistress.

The front cover Delacour marriage on the outs? Fleur Delacour caught mid liplock with a mystery woman,”.........No word on how Decorated War Hero Hermione Delacour nee Granger is taking this blow.

“Bold faced lies!” Victoire defends glaring at her housemate.

“Professor Longbottom take Miss Boote to Madam Pomfree, I’ll leave you to see fit to her punishment,” the Headmistress instructs as Desmera groans and Professor Longbottom ushers her into the castle.

“Now Miss Delacour, I don’t need to remind you that that is unacceptable behavior befitting a prefect and the daughter of the future Minister for Magic,”

Victoire looks to the side for a second before mumbling a “no ma’am,”

The Headmistress looks at the dejected young lady. Almost an exact replica of her french mum when she came to participate in the Triwizard Tournament all those years ago, save for her eyes.

“Now you will be serving detention in my office this coming Friday in the evening, hopefully that should teach you not to strike another student,” the Headmistress informs as she gives Louis a small nod and instructs the surrounding students to get to their classes.

\------------- x -------------

“You shouldn’t have struck her,” Teddy Lupin spoke as he watched Dominique Delacour put some healing salve on her older sister’s left cheek.

Part of Victoire’s punishment for starting a fight with another student.

No use of potions to heal the slight bruise Desmera had managed to inflict on her person during their scuffle.

“And what did you expect me to do Teddy?” Victoire glared at her boyfriend.

“I don’t know but not that, Desmera could blab this to a reporter at the Prophet,” Teddy tries to reason.

This seemed to do the trick as Victoire let out a frustrated sigh.

“Merlin’s balls you’re right,” 

Loras and Margeary’s giggles at her colorful language taking her away from her frustration.

“Don’t repeat that in front of mum,” Victoire warned.

This quieted the twins but did little to ease their shit eating grins.

Bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand Louis cleared his throat.

“What do you think about the picture circulating?” since he’d managed to get his hands on the article he’d been flabbergasted at what to do.

Let alone feel.

The picture showed his maman with her lips locked with another witch.

Albeit she didn’t look like she was reciprocating it.

It was enough to look incriminating.

Years of having walked in on his mums engaging in a liplock had shown him the body language his maman had when actually kissing someone.

And her posture in the photograph looked rigid.

Almost in shock.

This felt staged.

But he wasn’t sure.

“Maman would never,” Dominique defended.

“And if she did, she can count herself out of my life,” Victoire bit out.

This earned a resounding silence from her siblings and boyfriend around her as they looked at her in stunned silence.

“You don’t mean that,” Teddy tried to reason.

“Yes I do! If what they say in the papers proves to be true, then she’s not only hurt mum! She’s hurt all of us,” Victoire proclaims looking round to her younger siblings.

She was the eldest.

It was up to her to lead the charge.

And defend her mum from her maman if need be.


	3. Coming Together

A pressure.

On her cheek.

A continued pressure on her cheek.

That is what greeted Fleur when she awoke.

The questioning look of Claude’s seven-year old son looking at her with curious eyes.

“Tante Fleur, what are you doing sleeping on the couch? Is your bed not comfy?” 

Wide eyes.

Childlike wonder.

Shit!

She must’ve fallen asleep on Claude’s couch.

After discussing setting up a time and place for Fleur to meet her child by Katherina, Fleur had been taken completely by surprise by the witches sudden kiss.

She’d reacted a moment later to push her off of her.

Much to the dismay of the other witch.

Fleur had not said further words to her as she’d aparated.

However.

Not before seeing a wide smirk on Katherina’s face.

Shit.

She’d come to Claude’s manor.

To try to discuss the matter of her supposed child with her best friend.

They’d talked long into the night.

Had taken much longer to discuss the schematics and custody of it all.

Too long it would appear.

As Fleur found herself waking up to Claude’s young son staring at her as she sat up and tried to take in her surroundings.

The sudden sound of footsteps causing her to look up.

“You had a bit of a rough night, I didn’t want to wake you,” Claude explained as he set a steaming mug on the coffee table by Fleur.

“Non I should have left last night, Hermione is going to kill me,” Fleur said with a grimace as she took the coffee cup and brought it to her lips, taking a huge gulp.

“Ah that’s right she had that press conference this morning non?” the french wizard noted earning a groan from his friend.

Taking one more sip from her drink, Fleur gets up and wishes Claude a good day before apparating back to her parent’s manor.

Upon arrival she sets about to find her parents.

She is well aware of the current time and the whereabouts of her spouse.

A press conference.

A very important press conference.

She’d have to make it up to her. 

So she gathers her things and cleans herself up in the powder room before making her way down to the sunroom.

Where her parents tend to spend their time at this time of the day.

She is greeted by the concerned looks of her parents. 

Her father’s a tad murderous.

“Papa, Maman,” Fleur greets. She feels a desperate need to ask about Hermione’s whereabouts as a sinking feeling starts to take root in the pit of her stomach.

“Fleur, we would like an explanation to this,” Clement Delacour sternly demands as he holds in hand the day's paper.

On the front cover is a picture of Katherina’s kiss.

The very one she forced on you.

‘Conniving tart’ you think to yourself as the front cover’s words burn into your soul.

Delacour marriage on the outs? Fleur Delacour heir to the Noble house of Delacour caught mid liplock with a mystery woman,”.........No word on how Decorated War Hero Hermione Delacour nee Granger is taking this blow.

Your father clears his throat to get your attention.

And you can’t help but feel like a child once more.

Being scolded by your parents for doing something you weren’t supposed to.

You sigh in turn before you begin collecting the previous night’s occurrences. 

Your parents both listen on in increased interest.

The mention of an ‘illegitimate child’ weighs heavy on their shoulders as much as it does yours. 

In the history of your family there has never been a documented case of an illegitimate Delacour.

At least not in the last hundred years or so.

So it comes to a surprise to them as they are both well aware of the ramifications of what a scandal of this magnitude can mean to you and your family as much as the family name. 

You watch as the lines of worry etch into your father’s face.

His brow scrunched in thought.

He shares a quick glance with your mother before looking you in the eye.

“Is it a possibility that this could be true?” he asks as he stares you square in the eye.

He does not break eye contact.

You offer a shaky sigh in turn and can only offer him an uncertain response.

“I don’t think it could be, but I can’t be sure,” this does little to quell the growing worry lines on both of your parents.

“You should head home to your wife, Hermione deserves to hear this from your lips before the tabloids continue to make a slander of your name,” Your mother says in turn.

You can’t help but agree.

By now this has most likely reached the shores of the English Tabloids.

And your spouse’s.

As well as your children’s.

Merde.

You had not thought it through before passing out on Claude’s couch the night previous.

The ramifications of your moment of slouch.

You just hope Claude can find something of credence before Katherina and whatever scheme she’d potentially hatched up caused further disarray on your and your family’s life.

You’d cut a bitch if any harm came to your children much less your partner for the actions of an overreaching wench.

Bidding your parents a goodbye you wish them well before using the nearest floo to return home.

You’ve opted to floo into your wife’s office room in your spacious home.

Only you find that she’s not alone.

If the murderous look on Ginevra Weasley is anything to go by.

And the saddened look on Harry’s face.

They know.

News has reached your family’s shores.

And you must do all that you can to keep it from further attacking your family.

“Fleur so glad you could join us,” the oddly calm voice of Ronald Weasley catches your attention as he comes to stand beside you.

Something is odd.

Your wife has decided not to speak.

And her usually quick to anger friend has opted to speak for her in turn.

She looks up at you from the papers strewn about on her desk. 

She looks positively disappointed. 

But has not yet uttered a single word.

The sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach increases.

“How was your evening love,” she says, breaking the silence.

Her tone is neither loving nor angry.

But almost monotone nearly cold.

Devoid of emotion.

This does not sit well with you but you understand it as your beloved’s way of coping.

“Beloved I-,”

“I’ve received correspondence from our children,” your wife cuts you off mid sentence, a tone of underlying anger laced into every word.

She lifts a piece of parchment, and you walk forward to take it in your hands.

Taking the parchment in hand you see the angry scrawl of your eldest, a multitude of questions scream back at you.

You can feel the anxiety and slew of emotions in her questions.

This is the last thing you’d wanted from all of this.

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened last night,” Hermione asks you as she stares deep into your eyes.

Consternation etched into her brow.

So you set about explaining the details of the night previous. 

You make sure to be as descriptive as you can.

Your spouse and her companions listen to you earnestly and you watch as a mixture of emotions ranging from affront to quizzical grace their features.

After several minutes of contemplation, does your wife look at you.

“Is there any way to find out if this child is really yours Fleur?” she looks both anxious and heartbroken.

You want nothing more than to wrap her up in your arms and dispel away the obstacles that dare to come between you.

But you must first resolve.

That which you didn't know needed resolvement.

For the sake of your love

And your family.

“Claude mentioned looking into some documents concerning ze child’s birth at ze French Ministry,” you respond.

This gets you a few nods from your beloved’s companions.

“And Suzette is seeing what she can find from any of ‘er back ally acquaintances,” you surmise.

This gets you a small chuckle from your beloved before its replaced once more with the all to familiar look of concern.

“We will need to handle this with care and precision, we cannot afford any mishaps,” she looks you square in the eyes as she says this, you nod in turn.

Opting to not have your spouse accompany you the night previous had come back to bite you.

You would not be as foolish as to make the same mistake twice.

“We need to be a united front on this,” your beloved explains.

“And if this child is truly yours, then I will support you however I can,” she ends, you can feel the hurt at the end as she tries to convey her support for your alleged past actions.

You could not be more grateful in this moment.

If this child truly is yours, then you will have to acknowledge them as such. 

You weren’t quite sure what Katherina was up to.

But you’d be damned if you allowed her to supplant your true-born children.

Victoire would succeed you as the next head of House Delacour.

And her children after her.

You would make sure that this “child” of yours had a place. 

But not one of power.

You could only hope that they hadn’t been warped and twisted by Katherina.

She’d always been power hungry and ambitious when you’d been together.

Ever grasping like the rest of the snakes of the nobility.

Meeting Hermione had been a breath of fresh air.

She was everything you’d wanted and more.

She didn’t see Fleur Delacour the Heiress to the once Royal House of Delacour of France.

No.

She only saw Fleur Delacour.

Student of Beauxbaton that annoyed her in her 4th year.

You’d both grown together.

She’d relied on you as much as you had relied on her.

You’d been through so much.

A war.

Her near death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.

You’d raised five beautiful children together.

You’d erred in keeping her out of talks with Katherina.

At the time thinking that she didn’t need the added stress, as she had a press conference the following day.

You should have known that Katherina would try something.

You nod at her as you look into the eyes of your beloved.

Harry and Ron take a few steps to stand on either side of you and each give you small smiles.

Remaining beside your beloved’s side Ginny gives you a small smile of her own.

“Lets hope we can expose whatever this conniving bitch is trying to drag up,” 

This earns her a reprimand from your beloved.

Causing snickers from the men beside you.

\----------- x -----------

“Andre Brassard, age 19, eldest son and heir to House Brassard of Foix, father Alexei Brassard and Katherina Brassard,” Claude read aloud as he looked over the documents pertaining to the parentage of Andre Brassard.

The supposed child of Fleur.

“Merde, he even falls within the realm of possibility in age,” Claude muttered to himself as he poured over documents.

The boy had been conceived while his parents were finishing their schooling at Beauxbatons.

Around the time that Katherina had had to recuse herself from school.

They’d all wondered as to the reason.

Initially thinking that the shame of being publicly broken up with by the Heir to House Delacour had driven the girl to recuse.

Fleur had initially felt bad.

But no sooner had the feeling sunk in, than it had been revealed that Katherina was with child.

Alexei Brassard had acknowledged the child as his soon after.

Dealing a blow to Fleur as it was soon understood that Katherina had been shaking up with Alexei behind her back.

Fleur had been dealt a hurt blow as the knowledge of betrayal from her former long-time girlfriend settled itself within. 

And it was with the resolve to get over the heartbreak that she had enlisted herself as a potential candidate for the TriWizard Tournament the following year.

The year that she would go on to meet her mate.

Her spouse, Hermione Delacour nee Granger.

Looking back over the documents, Claude held up the picture the Ministry had on file on the boy.

“There is no trace of Fleur on any of his features,” Claude mused aloud as he took in the appearance of the boy.

Black of hair with green eyes and a wide set jaw, thin lips and a crooked nose, no.

There really was no trace of Fleur on any of the boy’s features.

‘At least Loras has some of Fleur’s features,’ Claude mused to himself thinking about Fleur’s youngest son. 

A son that did not resemble her maman but his british mum more in looks.

Even then did the son have at least some of the features known to be in the Delacour blood.

This boy however, didn’t.

‘If only we could get a sample of his blood,’ Claude thought to himself. 

If only, then they would be able to determine if the child was truly Fleur’s or merely a ruse made up by Katherina and her grasping minor lordling husband.

No sooner had Claude pondered this, than the door to his office burst open.

Looking up at the commotion, the body of a man bound and gagged was thrown through.

Suzzette Evreux strolling in behind.

Clad in a dark pair of form fitting pants and long sleeved top with a jacket to match.

The erstwhile daughter of House Evreux strolled into the office.

“I hope there’s an explanation as to why there’s a man tied up in my office,” Claude asked amused.

The man in question writhed on the ground as he attempted to no avail to free himself from his bindings.

Crouching over the man and wasting no time. 

The woman in question crouches over the bound man and rips off a long strip of tape from his mouth.

The man yells in pain but is unable to speak as Suzette quickly casts a silencing charm on him.

Getting up from her crouched position over the man, Suzette looks Claude head on, one arm on her hip and the other gesturing to the man on the floor.

“This is the younger brother to the Lord of Foix,” she begins to explain.

No sooner have the words left her lips than Claude’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm.

Making to untie the man he is stopped by Suzette’s hand on his chest, a silent ask to stop before taking any further action.

“I hope you have a good explanation as to why you have Lord Foix’s brother bound and gagged on my floor,” Claude implores as Suzette looks at him with an amused smile.

“I overheard him in one of the seedy bars down in Touraine, boasting about how his brother and his wife had cooked up a scheme to make their son the next head of House Delacour by passing him off as Fleurs,” Suzette explained as the man on the floor stills in his writing.

The color drains from his features as he feels the witch and wizard peering down at him. 

“Is that so,” Claude starts to say as he looks down at the man.

The man looks up at him in abject horror.

“Claiming the heirship to a high house is punishable by summary execution,” Claude muses aloud.

“Not that it's happened in many a decade, so there has never been a need to change such an archain law,” Suzette agrees. 

The man below frantically looks between the two.

Silent tears stream down his cheeks as he openly begins to sob.

“Now what to do with you,” Suzette muses aloud as Claude watches the man continue to sob into his carpet.

She flicks her wand to release her silencing charm as the mans sobs begin to filter through the office.

“Please, I beg your mercy,” the man pleads.

Irritation gracing her features Suzette delivers a swift kick to the man’s stomach.

“Mercy? Did your wretch of a brother and his whore of a wife show mercy to Fleur when they decided to run her good name through the mud?”

She makes to kick the man once more before her companion motions for her to stop.

“Now, I’m sure this man has seen the error of his ways,” Claude suggests.

Suzette across from him gives him a huff in annoyance but allows him to play his games.

The man in question furiously nods in agreement.

This had been a means to help their floundering family’s financial troubles.

He’d thought it a good idea at the time when his brother had let him in on his and his wife’s schemes.

He never thought they’d get found out.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a reasonable man,” Claude begins.

The man below nods in agreement.

“Yes sir, anything you’d like to know, I’ll tell you anything,”

This earns him a slight grin from the man looming over him.

The woman not so much as she looks down at him with disdain.

“Good, now tell us what exactly your brother and his wife had in mind for this ruse,” Claude asks

“And don’t lie or I’ll cut your tongue out,” Suzette threatens as the man furiously nod in understanding.

The message clear.

He needs not know that neither one of them would stoop to such a barbaric form of torture.

“It all started with my brother’s wife -

\--------------- x ----------------

It’d been exactly two weeks since the happenstance that had occurred at the reunion at Beauxbatons.

Hermione’s campaign was in full swing, her campaign manager and team working round the clock to vouch for their candidate of choice.

Fleur had been in correspondence with her two friends in France, both reporting their findings.

Most importantly the information that they had been able to uncover from Katherina Brussard’s brother-in-law, funny what the threat of death could do to a man.

The man in question was currently in a cell.

He would face trial for his actions, albeit to a lesser degree for his cooperation.

But punishment nonetheless.

Upon learning of this ruse, Fleur had promptly informed her spouse.

Hermione had looked outraged at first.

But had soon turned mournful.

Mournful for the child that was innocent in all of this.

The young man that was possibly being lied to by his mother and his actual father.

They’d decided to devise a plan to catch the Brussard’s on their ruse.

A way to expose the ruse that had dared to threaten their family.

And so they’d decided to invite Lord and Lady Brussard to their humble abode in England.

They’d no sooner sent the invitation, than a response had been promptly sent back.

Requesting that they be allowed to bring Andre, Fleur’s supposed “son”

They’d hoped to shield the boy from the wrongdoings of his parents.

But in that regard they’d have to accept the collateral damage.

The boy’s parents had certainly not thought of the effects this would have on their children after all.

All five of their children had yet to write Fleur.

Much to her dismay.

Hermione had taken her in her arms at this and assured her that they would come round in due time.

As the truth was uncovered.

Fleur could only hope that her children would not turn away from her when she went to pick them up from the train station.

In their haste to uncover the truth behind the supposed “child” that Fleur had by Katherina Brussard, they’d overlooked the Winter holidays.

Their children would be coming home for the holidays.

They’d both been looking forward to having all of their progeny home as this had been the first year they’d had an empty home.

Now all Fleur could do was dread the cold-shoulder she may receive from them.

Victoire most of all had been very vocal in her letters to Hermione, and the rest followed her lead in most things.

She could only hope that they’d be amicable at best.

At least in public, as Hermione’s campaign was winding down to the final days.

The race to become Minister for Magic was fast coming to a close.

And they had Hermione’s political career to think on.

Feeling a soft touch to her arm, Fleur looked to the eyes of her beloved.

“It’ll be ok,” she reassured as she gave Fleur a kiss on the cheek.

Leaning into her wife’s touch, Fleur gathered the shorter woman to her.

Her wife in turn returns the affection by wrapping her arms around her in turn.

Choosing to not include Hermione in discussions with Katherina had nearly cost her, her spouse.

Had resulted in this whole mess in the first place.

She’d not make the same mistake again.

Together they were stronger.

Yes.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Be on the lookout for the next chapter in the next week or coming days. I want to give myself some time to finish writing this fic before all the chapters are up haha :D. And please feel free to leave a comment if you have anything you'd like to ask or your thoughts on this new fic of mine.


End file.
